Rigorous
Volume Five, Issue 2



Suicide Note

Tureygua Inaru


TW: Suicide





When I think about Love
(and by “Love”, I mean You)
my heart is filled with questions.

Since I met you
I am a traveler.

I wish to travel the world
to find the reasons why
You do not love me.

I would like to expand my consciousness
at least.

There has to be a reason
because there is a reason for everything.

In my Travels
(and by “Travels”, I mean Dreams)
I am in an Ancient Egyptian tomb
naked and holding a torch.

The walls are closing in on me
with their angry, burial paintings
vengeful animal heads atop human bodies
screaming in a language I don’t understand.

YOU MUST UNDERSTAND, they chant.

I run down a long hallway
to my gilded coffin
outrunning the walls
that are collapsing around me.
I make it through the double doors.
They shut behind me, protecting me.
But before I can look upon my body
and discover the secret of my past life
everything disappears into a mist.

When I Awaken
(and by “Awaken”, I mean
I Think I Wake Up But I’m Still Dreaming)
scholars twitter schizophrenically
in ivory towers
about my life as Queen.
I am a ghost
so they can’t see me.

I listen.
I am disappointed.

I do not know who I am
but I know
I am not who they say I am.

I am not who they say I am
even though they revere me—
they say
I started
the most important religious revolution
in the history of my country.

What do they know?

Using all of my ghostly strength
I flip the table and all of the chairs
making the smart people run and scream
because the place is haunted!

As I laugh to myself
my hands, face and whole body
become human
but they still can’t see me.

As they scramble from the room
I throw all of their research papers
into the fireplace.
The air fills with smoke.

I Really Wake Up This Time
(and by “I Really Wake Up This Time”, I mean
I Have Consciously Chosen Death).
(And by “Death”, I mean Love).

I have lots of thoughts.

I am tired of thinking.

I Kill Myself
(and by “Kill Myself”, I mean
I Take A Rope
And Hang Myself
On A Tree Outside My Parent’s House).

It is just like going to sleep
except your eyes are open.

You were already Dead.

I see You.



Tureygua Inaru: “I am a writer from Central Florida. My poetry has been featured in Leonardo Magazine and No Peeking Theatre’s INDIGENOUS.”




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